Things Are Only Mannequins And Even The

The Power Of A Text When It Is Read Is Different From The Power It Has When It Is Copied Out. Only The Copied Text Thus Commands The Soul Of Him Who Is Occupied With It, Whereas The Mere Reader Never Discovers The New Aspects Of His Inner Self That Are Opened By The Text, That Road Cut Through The Interior Jungle Forever Closing Behind It: Because The Reader Follows The Movement Of His Mind In The Free Flight Of Day-dreaming, Whereas The Copier Submits It To Command.

Our Image Of Happiness Is Indissolubly Bound Up With The Image Of The Past.

Every Image Of The Past That Is Not Recognised By The Present As One Of Its Own Threatens To Disappear Irretrievably.

For What Is The Program Of The Bourgeois Parties? A Bad Poem On Springtime, Filled To Bursting With Metaphors.

Bourgeois Existence Is The Regime Of Private Affairs . . . And The Family Is The Rotten, Dismal Edifice In Whose Closets And Crannies The Most Ignominious Instincts Are Deposited. Mundane Life Proclaims The Total Subjugation Of Eroticism To Privacy.